


Another Rather Lovely Thing

by eratospen



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Belly Kink, Body Diversity, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fat and Happy Cullen, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 19:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3989755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eratospen/pseuds/eratospen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the war, Cullen and Lavellan choose to live amongst her clan instead of staying with the Inquisition. There, real happiness--and a thicker waistline--creeps up on the once-stern Commander.</p><p>Warning: This is a Dragon Age male weight gain / pregnancy kink / belly kink story. If that doesn't sound like your thing...it probably isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Year Zero

**Author's Note:**

> I took some liberties with Dalish culture and custom as needed, but for the most part, I tried to remain as loyal as possible to the world of the game. Also, again, if belly kink and weight gain aren't your thing, this is not the story for you.

“We did it,” Talia breathed, slumping back against his broad chest. It was cold on her balcony, but _he_ was warm; his breath gusted over her skin as Cullen leaned close and pressed a kiss to the arch of her neck. She shivered in response. “It’s finally over.”

“It’s finally over,” he agreed.

A strong wind blew down the jagged spine of the Frostbacks and wind stirred snow along the parapets so far below. In the Grand Hall, their friends were celebrating their victory in cheerful abandon, but here, wrapped within wool and fur and strong arms, Talia couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“Will everything change, now that it’s over?” she murmured, closing her eyes as he trailed hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along her skin. His big hands spanned her tiny waist, dragging up the lean lines of her finery…and then down again before he even reached her small breasts. She huffed an annoyed breath.

Cullen chuckled. “Not all at once,” he said as he hooked his thumbs into the waist of her breeches. He gave them a little tug, sliding them down just enough that the frigid air kissed the tight skin of her belly. His thumbnails dragged over the arch of her hipbones in a cruel tease. “The world still needs you to heal its rifts and tell its leaders off. The clans still look to you to be a voice for them when no one else can. But eventually, you’ll have to make a choice.”

Back and forth, back and forth, he rasped his nails along her skin. Left to his own devices, Cullen could tease her like this for hours—he loved to make her arch and writhe for him. Most nights, Talia was willing to let him take control of the pace of their lovemaking, but tonight…

Tonight, she was victorious. Tonight was _hers_.

Talia turned her face, biting back a mischievous grin—then suddenly spun in his arms. She pushed him back one full, hard step, _vaulting_ into his arms before he’d fully caught his balance. Her long, agile legs wrapped around his trim waist even as she slung her arms across those gorgeously broad shoulders. She laughed, auburn hair swinging forward to brush stubbled cheeks as she pressed their foreheads together. “Mm, and what sort of choice would you have me make _tonight_ , Commander?”

“One that hopefully doesn’t end with the both of up sprawled on the floor again,” he muttered, but he was smiling; he always smiled around her, when they were alone. It was her favorite thing about him.

 _One_ of her favorite things.

She slowly dragged her nails across his shoulders and down his chest, feeling the hard pecs, the tight abdominals. Down to where their bodies were seamed. He growled in response, gripping her ass and dragging her close, and Talia leaned the rest of the way in to swallow his growl with a flick of her tongue, dragging her hands up his taut body to pinch his nipples hard enough to make him stagger.

…they ended up sprawled across the floor no matter what he said, but by then, neither of them were complaining. It was, Talia decided, as good a way to celebrate as any. It was the _best_ way.


	2. Year One

The low moan woke her from a sound sleep. Talia blinked open her eyes, staring up at the ceiling as the world reoriented around her. With all the traveling she was forced to do (crisscrossing all of Thedas, it seemed, to close lingering rifts and let people stare at her like she was some kind of Dalish Messiah…which she supposed some of them still thought she _was_ ), it always took a few beats for her to remember where she was.

High ceiling. Exposed beams. Soft bed.

Skyhold.

And beside her, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, fighting to bite back pained moans, was Cullen.

Talia sat up, letting the sheets whisper across naked flesh to puddle in her lap. She reached out, one hand lightly touching between his starkly defined shoulder blades. He’d lost more weight in the last few weeks she’d been gone traipsing through the Wastes. The muscular bulk was still there, but he was starting to get lean about the face, skin stretching worryingly tight. “Cullen?” she murmured.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice muffled by his cupped hands. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You _should_ have woken me.” Talia stroked her fingers up and down his spine before slowly moving to her knees. She pressed her palms against his shoulders and dug down hard with the heels, massaging the knotted muscles. “Is it your head?”

He made a noise somewhere between relief and disgust. “It’s everything,” he growled. Cullen dropped his hands, letting them dangle between his thighs as he submitted to her caresses. “The symptoms should be getting better with time, not worse.”

“They _will_ ,” she promised. Talia leaned in to kiss his shoulder, but Cullen abruptly rose; the sheet fell away from him, and in the moonlight, he was both beautiful and terrible—hipbones a too-sharp arch, cheeks nearly gaunt. There were shadows under his eyes that hadn’t been there when she left for the Wastes; or had they been there all along and she just hadn’t noticed?

Cullen dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just—I’m out of sorts tonight. I should be glad you’re home. I _am_ glad you’re home. I’m just—”

“You’re in pain,” she whispered, watching him. Her heart ached to see it. “When we had Corypheus to fight, you had something to keep your mind from it, but now that the war is over…”

“Who knew peace could be such a burden?” he said with a barking laugh. It wasn’t a happy sound. “I’m sorry, Talia—truly, I am. Usually I can button it down, but tonight it feels like there’s glass beneath my skin, and I just…”

She rose up onto her knees, reaching out but not touching him. Her hands stopped an inch away from his skin, stroking up in a slow, abstract pattern she’d learned from her mother. She murmured to him in elvish, knowing from the look on his face that he only caught a few words despite their lessons.

“Talia?”

“I used to have nightmares,” she confessed. “When I was very young. I’d wake screaming almost every night; my mother did this to me when I was so afraid that my muscles clenched up until it hurt. She said she was ordering the flow of my body again. She was quieting the rapids.” This time, when she passed her hands over his stomach, she let her fingertips brush oh-so lightly along the bumps of his abs. “I want to help you find peace. What use is all the work we’ve done if we can’t even enjoy the world we saved?”

He shuddered lightly. She could actually see his muscles tightening under his skin before he slowly forced himself to relax. “There’s too much work to do to—”

Talia let both hands rest over his stomach, pressing down firm. “Bullshit,” she said.

“Talia, we have to—”

“Bullshit,” she said.

Cullen let out a gusting breath and gently caught her wrists. He lifted her hands to kiss her fingertips, then moved to sit on the bed next to her. Completely naked, shoulder to shoulder, they were a study of opposites in the dim—he pale and muscular, she brown and lithe. Even so, when she leaned against him, they fit together better than any mosaic tiles. “What do you propose?”

“We’ve fought long and hard to bring the world peace,” Talia said slowly. “You’re one of the best commanders there is, but you’re not the _only_ one who can lead the Inquisition’s armies. Let Cassandra take her turn for a time.”

“And you?” he asked. “You’re hardly easy to replace.”

Talia laughed and pressed a kiss to his shoulder before lightly, carefully laying her cheek against his skin. He felt hot, as if fevered. “Aren’t I? Oh, they need me to close a rift here or there when one is found, and they’ll probably have to trot me out every few months to let people gawk at me and my holy hand,” she made an obscene jerking off gesture, surprising a sputtering laugh from him, “but when it comes to the day to day running of the Inquisition, Josephine has been in charge of things for a long time. I think she still expects me to call annoying nobles dirty shems.”

“I don’t know where they’d get that idea,” Cullen said dryly. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Talia went willingly, letting herself be drawn across his lap. She cuddled close, hating how frail he suddenly seemed. If she let herself really think about it, how frail he’d been seeming for a while now. “All right. If we were to step back from the Inquisition for a time, where would we go?”

She closed her eyes and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his chest. “Home,” she murmured quietly. Leliana and Briala were still working hard to make things better for the elves, and certain forests and plains had been declared protected lands. Her tribe had come as close to settling as the Dalish had in living memory, and each letter she received about the slow and fragile roots they were putting down made her _long_ to join them.

“Would they accept me?” Cullen asked, just as quietly.

“Cullen,” Talia said. “We saved the _world_. Yes, they’ll accept you. They’ll love you, as I love you.”

He was silent for a long, long time. Then, with a shuddery sigh, he stroked a hand up her arm. “All right,” he said, breath rustling the baby fine hairs at her temple. “Let’s go home, then.”


	3. Year Two

A small part of Talia had been nervous that it wouldn’t work. It had taken many months to wrap up final affairs and officially hand over the reins of power to Josephine. Meetings had been met and banquets had been banqueted. An uncomfortable number of people came on pilgrimage to see her in her final weeks, as if she was going back to the Fade and not to live with her clan in the Marches.

“I believe they think I’m kidnapping you,” Cullen whispered one evening after an interminable dog-and-pony show of fake smiles and too many speeches. 

“ _Can_ you kidnap me?” she whispered back, meaning it, but he just chuckled.

It had been an easy enough thing for him to retire. Cullen and Cassandra had met twice over ale, talked over the reports, and made an announcement—and then suddenly he was no longer commanding the troops of the Inquisition. He was far more relaxed than she could remember ever seeing him, smiling more, playing chess or sitting in the tavern to hear stories, sleeping soundly. Their sex life was _incredible_. He was starting to put back on the weight he’d lost during the last few bad years, and while as the months passed, he did start to lose a little of the rock-hard definition won by hours and hours of running drills with the troops, he’d never looked better.

It turned out not having a mountain of stress on his shoulders on _top_ of personal demons and a decade’s worth of addiction to battle was good for him.

But finally, _finally_ Talia passed her last duty over to Josephine and was officially in semi-retirement. She threw her arms around her ambassador and gave her a smacking kiss on the lips before vaulting out of the room, _running_ to the garden where Cullen had taken to reading through Varric’s books, now that he actually had the time to do such things. “Kidnap me, kidnap me!” she cried, tumbling across his lap and leaving the pages all dog-eared. He laughed and caught her mouth in a happy, hungry kiss when she pressed close, one hand bracing along the bow of her spine as she stroked their tongues together and let him taste her joy.

They kissed, and kissed, and _kissed_ , out in the open, before anyone who cared to see—because for once in all the time they’d known each other, they weren’t public figures; they were just _people_ , and they were in love, and it didn’t matter who knew.

 _This_ , Talia thought with a shiver, _is the start of something wonderful and new._


	4. Year Three

As it turned out, her clan didn’t love Cullen—they _adored_ him.

Talia had never seen her clan embrace anyone as fast as they did the man she had chosen. He was accepted unequivocally, even by the strongest of the firebrands. He was hers, the Keeper explained patiently when Talia crept from her new tent to ask, and she was the child of the Dales who healed the sky. Why wouldn’t they accept him?

“But you do not need me to tell you such things,” the Keeper added with a wry twist of her mouth. “Not when you already know them so well. Here. Give this to him, as a token of my blessing on your joining.”

Talia took the stoppered clay jug, sniffing curiously at the cork. It didn’t smell like any spirits she had ever come across—and considering she and Blackwall had once made a game of collecting every bottle of wine they stumbled across, that was saying something. “What is it?” she asked. “Oh, and we are not joined.”

“It is for his lingering pains. It doesn’t matter how hard he tries to hide it,” the Keeper added at her curious noise, “my Second and I see his struggle well enough. This will not cure what ails him—when the desire for lyrium gets that deep, there is no cure—but it will strip away its sting. Your Joined will be a changed man, Talia, but I think you will find his peace suits the both of you well.”

“…we’re not joined,” she tried again, but the Keeper just looked at her with endless peaceful amusement, so she finally sighed and accepted the gift. “Thank you,” she said. “From the both of us.”

When she returned to the tent and aravel they shared (too big and grand to truly be called a tent, with soft rugs and three rooms perfectly aligned to let sweet breezes pass through) with Cullen, she found him sitting outside by the firepit, inspecting a bow with a bemused twist of his lips. He looked up when she flopped next to him. “So it turns out we’re married,” she said by way of greeting. “The Keeper gives you this as a wedding present.”

“ _Pardon_?” He blinked at her, but he took the jug she pressed into his hands willingly enough. “We’re—”

“Married. _Joined_. Hope you don’t mind I apparently claimed you when you weren’t looking.” Talia shrugged out of her leather vest, tossing it carelessly aside, and arched at the feel of the cool wind against her bare breasts. Her brown nipples tightened and she dug her toes into the dirt. She could _feel_ his eyes on her, but she managed to bite back her amused grin at his keen interest. “On the other hand, this does save me the trouble of asking you.”

He let out a breath. “But I was going to ask _you_.”

Talia bumped his calf with her foot. “Too late; I beat you to it. Married you without you even noticing—I am just. That. Good.” She rolled her head toward him, opening her eyes and meeting his. “Are you okay with this?”

Cullen swallowed, then nodded. “Yes,” he said. Then again, “Yes, of course. I love you. I’ve wanted this. I am very, very happy with being, ah, joined.”

“Mm. Good.” She knew he’d want to talk it all out later, but for now, that was enough: they were married. “Speaking of good, what are you doing with the bow? You _know_ you’re rubbish at archery.”

“I do,” Cullen said, setting it and the jug aside. “But there’s not much call for sword and shield here, and if I want to do more than tell learning stories around the fire to the children, I’ll have to get better at it. Otherwise, the hunters won’t have me with them.”

She reached out to touch his face, brushing her thumb across his mouth. Then, when his lips parted for her (as they always, always did), she slipped the thumb inside to brush his tongue. Hot. Slick. _Soft_. Talia shivered, then impulsively moved to straddle his hips, long legs wrapping around his waist, bare breasts dragging along his soft jerkin. She could feel his rapidly hardening cock against the curve of her bottom, and she rocked down against it even as she slowly, rhythmically thrust her thumb into his mouth. His eyes had gone dark; his big hands fell to her waist. They’d both been wanting this since the moment she settled next to him. “What if I like seeing you sitting around the fire, telling learning songs to the little ones?” she murmured. She could feel the hot brand of him against her cunt. She was flushing, getting _wet_. “You’ve seen so many things; you’re a new voice they’d never be able to hear otherwise.”

Talia dragged her thumb free with a liquid _pop_ ; their breaths were coming faster, harsher as he gripped her waist and quickened the steady rock of his hips.

“I’ve never been anything but a fighter,” he murmured, voice hoarse. Cullen dropped his head, nosing at her breasts as she arched toward him. It had taken him so little time to adjust to the more open way of her clan. This firepit was private, away from prying eyes, but even if someone did wander by, their lust wasn’t anything to be ashamed of…even if they would need to take it inside soon or risk fucking out here beneath the steady eye of the sun. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I’d grow,” he caught her nipple between his lips, tongue swirling across the tightening skin, “fat and lazy without any action.”

She snarled her fingers in his hair, keeping him pressed against her breasts. Her voice came out in little harsh pants as she rocked against the scalding ridge of his cock, straining against his leathers. “I’ll—fuck—give you all the action you need,” she promised. She was aching for him to fill her. “I’ll drill you every night in the sheets, after you come home from teaching the little ones. _Our_ little ones.”

Cullen lifted his head, lips wet, eyes incredibly dark. Their breaths mingled together in an aching gust. “ _Our_ little ones?”

“If you want,” Talia murmured. She raked her nails down the back of his neck and rode out his full-body shudder. “We _are_ joined now. People won’t be surprised to see my belly starting to round out with your child.”

“Maker,” he gasped, jerking up _hard_ against her. 

Talia leaned in and kissed him again, even as she reached between them. She slid a hand down his stomach (no longer ridged with abs, but still more or less flat) to cup between their bodies. He hissed a breath when she squeezed his cock; _she_ moaned when her knuckles pressed against her cunt. He was so incredibly hard, and she was sopping wet for him. If she didn’t have him soon—

“Maker, that image,” he groaned.

“Tell me.” She hitched her hips against him, grinding them hard.

“If— When I get you pregnant, _you’ll_ be the one with the big, swollen belly,” Cullen murmured. His thumbs brushed up and down her tight, quivering stomach as he spoke, as if in illustration. “You’re so small, it’ll look huge on you after just a few months, pushing out from your body in a massive, gravid swell.” 

She whimpered, squeezing tight—then twisted her thumb to snap open his laces, yanking his erection free. Cullen wrenched at her own laces, unravelling them with one hand even as he stroked the line of her stomach with the knuckles of his other. He kept talking in a low murmur, filling her head with images of her lithe body swelling huge, being weighted down by their child. _Why_ was the image so hot? She’d never even thought much about being pregnant before, but for some reason, the mere idea of it now was slicking her thighs with come. 

“By the seventh month, you’ll be so round and full, your belly will lead you everywhere you go. You won’t be able to fit into your leathers—the vest will be straining to contain your swollen breasts, and the laces of your trousers will be constantly unraveling under the weight of your gravid belly.”

“ _Cullen_ ,” Talia hissed, lifting her hips to help shove down her trousers. They were still out in the open, still out where anyone could come by to see, but she didn’t care; _she didn’t care_. She hadn’t felt this hot in forever, pussy clenching rhythmically, _throbbing_. She was dripping, dark curls sopping as his bare cock dragged along the slick outer folds. The image of being with child had never appealed to her before—she’d never _considered_ it—but for some reason, the simple domesticity of swelling huge with _her husband’s_ baby, with nursing a child at her full breast as he helped teach the clan’s children about the world beyond the forest, the both of them happier than she could ever have imagined—

It made her lose her breath. It made her ache for the future they could finally build.

And when he gripped her hips and brought her down on his cock, stretching her more, _more_ with each thick inch of him, Talia could do nothing but toss her head back and keen.

“I love you,” Cullen gasped, hips jerking up once, twice. He dropped a hand down to brace against the ground, using it to control his weight as he drove up into her. The other hand stroked over her still-clothed legs, then up to flutter over her stomach—the stomach he was going to make big with his child—and to her breasts. He thumbed her nipples in time with his ragged thrusts, pinching the hard tips, making her thrash her head and shudder, close, closer, needing… _Needing…_

Then his hand pushed down between them and his sword-calloused fingers dragged around the slick place of their joining, circling her clit with a practiced gesture, and she came with a glad cry—bucking against his strength, head thrown back, mind filled with all the beautiful things their future would bring them.

Cullen wrapped his arms around her waist as she shuddered in orgasm, biceps tightening, thrusting up, up, harder—and then he was shuddering too, heavy cock jerking inside her body as he let out a shattered-sounding moan. She could _feel_ the heat of him inside her, filling her, and in her mind’s eye, she was already pregnant with his beautiful golden-eyed child. Ripe and shivering and slicked with sweat, just ready to begin swelling with his seed.

Her hand dropped limply between them as they finally relaxed together, breathing hard. Her fingers brushed across her stomach, knuckles bumping against his on every stroke.

_Soon, she thought, happier than she ever remembered being. _Maybe soon.__


	5. Year Four

As it happened, Talia didn’t get pregnant right away despite every concerted effort. Or perhaps _effort_ wasn’t the right way to think about it, she mused as she scrubbed her leggings in the clear-running stream. Their sex life had taken on a voracious note since that night, but she could never be sure whether that was due to a newly discovered kink (it turned out talking about how he was going to fill her belly with his child turned both of them on to a ridiculous degree), an actual desire to start their family, the peace that came with _not_ having the weight of the world on their shoulders, or…something else entirely.

Something like the potion Cullen now took every day.

She glanced over her shoulder, watching as he trudged across the flatlands to join her, basket of additional laundry bundled on his strong back. He’d started taking the Keeper’s potion mostly to humor the older woman, but within days he was already swearing by the stuff.

“It doesn’t quite make it go away completely,” he’d tried to explain to her, frowning down at the clear liquid in his glass. The scent wafted up around them, strong and a little bitter. “But it’s like cool water on a burn. It is such a relief, Talia, I don’t even…”

And then he’d frowned down into the glass and murmured something about maybe seeing if they could send the recipe back to Skyhold, for any of the other ex-Templars who wanted to break their chains. Talia wouldn’t dare stop him when it came to something this important, and she was _so glad_ to see the lines beginning to lighten around his eyes and along his brow as the pain melted away. But it still struck her as a little odd how lustily he approached life now when he used to be almost a little reserved before…and it bothered her that she couldn’t say for sure whether it was nature or happiness or another liquid leash.

“This is the last of it,” Cullen said, swinging the bag down next to her. He crouched to inspect the clothes she’d already scrubbed clean and left drying on flat rocks, one hand slipping out to caress the bare curve of her spine. She’d tugged off her vest to give it a good scrub as well, leaving her in a light loincloth. When his hand slid down to graze her ass, she ducked her head and bit back a smile.

“You can’t _still_ be up for it,” Talia said, pretending to slap his hand away. “We coupled twice today already.”

He just arched his brows back at her playfully. “Perhaps you are just that beautiful.”

“You have the appetite of a druffalo.” She flicked water at him and he splashed her back, grabbing her about the waist when she would have darted away. The feel of his strong arm around her never failed to send a thrill through her body, or when he caught her mouth in a surprisingly hungry kiss.

She melted into the kiss, one hand on his chest, the other still clinging to the trailing end of her leggings as they floated in the stream.

The day was clear and hot, sun beating down across the beautiful green slopes. Their clan had picked up stakes to move further north over the long summer, and it was _good_ to be out in the open lands, though she missed the forest now that they were gone. There were no one else near the river, though if she strained, she’d be able to hear sounds drifting from the nearby camp, just over the rolling hills. Some of the others would very soon take advantage of the fine day to do their own chores.

…And Cullen’s hand slid up to palm her bare breast, thumbnail rasping over her tightening nipple.

Talia shivered and turned her face away, breaking the kiss. She was breathless just from this, a faint heat stirring between her thighs despite having been _thoroughly_ satiated earlier in the day. “Back, beast,” she said, lightly thwacking her Joined’s chest. “We won’t be alone for long.”

Cullen offered a twisting smile. “True enough.” He stood and began unlacing the front of his tunic. At her arched brows, he pretended to scowl. “To _wash_ , woman. I’m not going to throw myself on you everywhere we go.”

“So you _say_ ,” she sassed back, beginning to wring her leggings dry, “but so far, experience is making a liar of you.” He just gave an amused noise in response, so she turned away to spread her leggings over the bank. When she turned back, Cullen’s arms were up, back arched as he stripped off his tunic.

And there, nearly at eye level, was the second side effect she’d been keeping a cautious eye on the last few months.

It had started, like his increased desire for sex, small. To be fair, she had to admit that it was _still_ fairly small, though his appetite certainly was not. He’d always been sparing in his meals, too focused on reports or troop movements or casualties in this skirmish or that to take decent care of himself. Now, as he relaxed into _living_ , he seemed to have discovered a gusto she had never noticed in him before. As they sat around the fire with members of their clan, Cullen ate with an appetite that surprised and pleased her. He was willing to try anything, no matter how unfamiliar, and she had yet to see him turn away a haunch of meat or bowl of stew or sweetling. It was as if, now that his mind was no longer occupied by dark thoughts, he was letting himself be free to indulge in all the pleasures of the flesh.

She bit her bottom lip, watching as he tossed his tunic into the pile of laundry and stretched. His abs had disappeared completely within the first month, but it wasn’t until two or three months in that she began to notice a faint softening of Cullen’s stomach. Her knuckles could dig into skin a little before hitting muscle—that was it.

But then four months, five, and Talia began to see his flat belly start to lose its tautness bit by bit by bit. Her knuckle could dig deeper when she brushed against him. She could feel the subtle give as she rode his waist, hands mapping his body. A little slope swelled just below his belly button, just noticeable enough that it drew her eye.

And now, seven months into their life with the clan, that little slope had pushed out into a small but definite bulge, where there had once been nothing but muscle.

He let out a breath, bending to grab the bag of laundry, completely oblivious to her scrutiny—and to the way a little fold of fat pushed over the lip of his pants. Talia bit her bottom lip, watching with rapt curiosity as the lacings of his trousers strained, waistband obviously pinching into his stomach. Little rolls formed along his sides, disappearing again when he straightened—but if she _really_ looked, she’d be able to see the softening of those sides, the…thickening. When he was standing in profile to her, as he was now, the subtle bulge around his belly button was all the more obvious.

Her husband was most certainly gaining weight. But was it a side effect? Or was it just a result of his new-found joy in life?

“Cullen,” Talia said suddenly, shielding her eyes against the sun. “Are you happy?”

Cullen looked down at her with a surprised frown. “Of course I’m happy,” he said. “Why?”

“No, I mean… Are you _happy_? Truly?”

He settled into a crouch, reaching out to brush back her hair. His fingertips trailed along her ear, earning a light shiver. “I have never been happier in my life,” he murmured, eyes on hers. “ _Truly_.”

“And you would tell me if anything was ever wrong?” she pressed. Before he could answer, Talia was sliding into his arms, pushing him back onto his rear so she could straddle his hips. This was her favorite place to be, legs around his waist, knees pressed along the curve of his back, body close. “No matter what?”

That old familiar line of worry was back between his brows for the first time in a very long time, and he was cupping her face with palpable concern. “Talia,” Cullen began, “of _course_. Why? What has you so worried? Is there—”

She stopped his mouth with a kiss, sudden and fierce. Cullen made a protesting noise against her lips, but all it took was a flick of her tongue and he was responding, _hungry_. He really was always so hungry for her.

 _This is a good thing_ , Talia told herself, sliding her hands down his slides to subtly dance over the tiny roll that formed as he sat. She was worrying too much over nothing. Increased sex drive? Increased appetite? Those went hand in hand with decreased anxiety, decreased nightmares, decreased _pain_. It was a non-problem.

She rolled her hips against him, feeling his cock firm against her ass, feeling the soft give of his little starter belly against her cunt. She tangled her fingers in his hair and gave herself over to the moment.

Everything was going to be fine.


	6. Year Four and a Half

“There’s no need to fear, da’len,” their Keeper gently scolded, following Talia’s gaze. Cullen was standing with the hunters, talking. He no longer looked so strange amongst them despite their obvious differences—he was a head and shoulders taller than the tallest of them, chest and arms broad with muscles, face lacking the elongated, delicate features.

And that little stomach, that slow hint of change, had continued over the months to grow…and grow…and grow.

Talia bit her bottom lip, watching as her Joined gestured, tunic tightening over the curve of his gut. It didn’t stick out from his body in an obvious belly, but it was hard to ignore the way his clothes hugged the curve of him too tightly…straining over his swollen middle. It was hard to ignore the way it sometimes rode up when he wasn’t paying attention, flashing bits of skin, creaking dangerously with each breath.

He needed new clothing; he was about the burst out of the ones he had.

“But isn’t it…unusual to put on so much weight so quickly?” Talia fretted. The sight of that tight-to-bursting tunic did strange things to her insides; she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. What would she do if he took a deep breath and the laces holding his trousers cinched snapped against the pressure of that belly? What would she do if he just kept getting bigger and bigger, stomach swelling out with each full, rich meal he ate—stuffed tight as a drum after dinner and softening as the evening wore on until, as she curled against his side, she sometimes swore she could _see_ him expanding oh-so slowly beneath her. “He’s getting fat.”

“Yes,” the Keeper said. “He will be fat.”

Talia turned her attention back to the other woman, brows arched. “You don’t seem surprised. _Is_ it the potion you gave him?”

“Appetites are powerful forces to deny, whether they are for the pleasures of a good meal or of the flesh.” Talia refused to blush at the frank, _amused_ look the Keeper shot her. “Can you really tell me the idea of a fat Joined bothers you more than the thought of him in pain?”

“ _No_ ,” she said immediately, vehemently. “I would never want him to be in pain. It is only…different. I have never been with a fat lover. I never imagined he could be one.”

The Keeper patted her hand and both of them looked back at Cullen; he was tugging down his tunic with a faint frown, though otherwise he never seemed to pay much attention to (notice?) the changes in his own body. “Give yourself leeway to embrace what you never imagined, da’len,” she said. “You may find unexpected pleasure in it.”


	7. Year Five

“Cullen!” Talia gasped, arching up toward his mouth. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, snarling about the golden strands as his tongue thrust inside her aching body. He was gripping her hips almost hard enough to hurt, but that only made her keen and try to buck up harder, _harder_. She rode each flick of his tongue with a shuddery cry; as another peak neared, she dug her heels into the curve of his spine and _wailed_.

Close. Close. Closecloseclose.

Her back was a perfect bow; her thighs were trembling, muscles juddering beneath the skin. He was _unmaking her._ Cullen swirled his tongue expertly around the delicate hood of her clit, then pressed flat, licking, _sucking_. His stubbled chin scraped her sopping folds raw, but even _that_ was building her higher, was pushing her toward— Toward—

Talia sucked in a breath, _so close_ she could almost taste the endless cascade of relief. When he dropped a hand between her thighs and hooked two thick fingers inside her clenching body, Talia keened. When he dragged a calloused thumb over her aching clit and turned his face to murmur against her thigh, “Maker you’re so hot. I never thought I could meet anyone who could make me want _so much_ ,” she almost screamed. 

They’d been at it for…there was no telling how long. Time didn’t mean anything anymore. She weighed the minutes, hours, by the sweat dripping across her brow, by the harsh pants of his breath. Her cunt ached and she was deliciously sore, clenching around his big fingers as he thrust inside of her with a slow, _agonizing_ pace.

Tease. He was such a bloody _tease_.

“Cullen,” she gasped, reaching up to pluck at her own nipples. They’d been clenched so tight for so long that even the lightest pressure was agony. When she pinched them between thumb and forefinger, it was enough to make her whole body jolt in response and clamp down around his hand.

He had done this to her. He had made her into this mindless creature of flesh and need.

Cullen sucked a mark into her thigh, then trailed his tongue across the folds of her cunt, thrusting hard with sword-roughened fingers the whole time. He licked at the come spread across her sex, her thighs, moaning at the taste as if he craved it; as if he could never be satiated.

“I want to take you,” he murmured against her slick skin. Each breath was a hot puff of air on her exposed folds, and his thumb rubbed a hard circle against her throbbing clit in time with his words. “I want to push inside your waiting body and fill you with all of me. I want to suck on your tongue and let you taste your own come as I thrust inside of your tight—Maker so tight—body.”

“ _Cullen_ ,” she gasped, jerking against his hand—but his other hand slapped against her flat belly, pushing her back against the soft furs. He was risen half-over her, eyes dark.

The possessive sweep of his gaze was enough to have her keening. 

“Maybe this will be the night,” Cullen murmured in a husky growl that shot through her just as strong as the deep thrust of his fingers. “Maybe _this_ will be the time I fill you with my seed—again, and again, thrusting into you until your body gives out against mine, until you can do nothing but blossom beneath me—and get you with our child. Maybe this will be the start of that life growing inside you, making you swell bigger and bigger and bigger as each month passes; your stomach would get so big for me, Talia. You would grow massive, breasts filling until they spilled out of even the most generous cups of your tunics, belly so monstrously large with our child that you’d have to struggle to push yourself up…”

She bucked _hard_ at the image, writhing at the low, husky words, cunt tight around his thrusting fingers, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t… Then all at once, Talia gasped in a breath and _shoved_ her husband back.

“Roll over, roll over,” Talia hissed, baring her teeth as she scrambled back after him. “If I don’t get you in me, I’ll die.”

He moaned, pulling back just enough to tip their balance of power; once she had him on his knees, it was an easy thing to press her hands to his chest and _push_ , following him down like she was felling a bear. She straddled his thighs and _dragged_ herself up his body in a teasing rasp of flesh, rising up onto her knees. From this vantage point, she could see his dazed, hot eyes, his parted lips, his thick, flushed cock pressed against the undeniable heft of his gut.

It was no longer a small thing, easily overlooked. From this view, it appeared even bigger than she knew it to be—belly rounding out from the still-muscled plane of his chest, pushed forward in a high slope. When she reached down to brace her hands against the thickest part of him, his skin was deliciously warm and surprisingly solid beneath a soft layer of fat. When she slid her hands down, she could cup the curve of his sides where small handles were forming even when he stood tall. Something about that made her just as hot, in the moment—she let her fingers span his ever-softening sides as she positioned herself above him.

“I’m going to get so big for you,” Talia murmured, then bit her lip and slowly, slowly, _slowly_ lowered herself onto her husband’s cock.

There was such a size difference between them—him so sturdy, her so small—that it was a delicious burn even after all this time together. She whined deep in her throat as he filled her bit by stretching bit. When she tipped forward, fingers digging into his plush stomach, she could _watch_ as his cock spread her folds wide.

And, strangely, a thought struck her as he bottomed out: _another few inches to his gut and I won’t be able to see around it anymore._

That, somehow, hit her like a one-handed cleave. She _moaned_ , passage fluttering madly around him and dragging an answering moan from Cullen in return. Talia looked up, meeting stunned dark eyes, and rocked up before pushing back down again. She was pitched forward, resting her slight weight on her hands, and it electrified her to realize that pressed this close, there was no longer a gap of space between them. The rounded curve of his gut dragged against her taut stomach on each upward thrust, golden hairs tickling her skin, and it shouldn’t, it _shouldn’t_ have made her shudder and jerk. It _shouldn’t_ have made her pick up speed to think of the changes in his body, the way he was growing with each month that passed.

After another year of this, she thought with a broken cry, working against his rolling hips, it would no longer be something they could easily ignore—the gut he’d been slowly but surely growing into would push out, soar forward into a thick, round _belly_ that pushed against his loosest of tunics and made his trousers sag low beneath its solid weight. He’d be flashing a crescent of flesh no matter what he did, and the way it would move beneath his clothes, no longer able to be hidden, no longer the little secret she kept, and he kept from himself—

In a year of this, maybe less, her husband would be well on his way to being truly fat, and the _image_ of that—of Cullen sitting with a child leaning against his side, thighs spread by the gravid belly that strained forward in a wide arc as if _she_ had gotten _him_ impossibly heavy with child—somehow mixed with the image of herself roundly pregnant and _shattered_ inside her.

“Swollen for you,” _for me_ , “so round, so _big_ , oh _Cullen_ ,” she mewled, and she came hard on the weird double image of the both of them arching beneath matching bulging bellies, happy and fat, and fat and happy, and she had no idea when the two had become linked in her head but _oh oh oh_ —

Talia keened at Cullen’s broken noise, her hands moving restlessly over his heaving potbelly as he thrust up into her clenching body, _filling_ her with his seed. She whimpered, digging her fingers into the soft give of his sides, delighting in the strength of his body, in the contrast of bulging muscles in his biceps and the round thrust of his gut.

When he collapsed back, she tipped forward against him, too exhausted to even roll to the side. His cock was still inside her, slowly slipping free as he softened, and her thighs were _wet_ with mingled come. She clenched her legs together, allowing Cullen to turn them so he could lay curled together, imagining a life taking hold inside her at last.

 _Next year_ , Talia thought, palm sliding over her husband’s sweat-drenched flesh and imagining the feel of her own body going through such a drastic change. _It’s going to happen for us next year._


	8. Year Five and a Half

Talia paused at the threshold, watching unobserved as her Joined struggled with his leathers.

He’d managed to get the tunic fastened—though how he’d managed that, she had no idea; the buttons were straining as he huffed in each increasingly annoyed breath—and the trousers all the way up his powerful thighs. They fit his legs like a dream, perhaps more snug than they used to be, but still well within reason.

But once they were around his hips, his _waist_ , it was obvious what the problem was.

She bit her finger, leaning against the tentpole and watching as he struggled to suck in his gut. It was framed gloriously by his straining tunic and gaping-wide trousers, soaring out from his body in a delicious bulge. It seemed to defy gravity, especially now just after a meal, when it was swollen hard with Cullen’s over-indulgence— _flushed_ a rosy red and adorable enough she had to fight the impulse to go swooping in (so much as she could swoop nowadays) and drop to her knees to kiss around the ever-deepening belly button.

Cullen grunted in obvious disgust and frustration and yanked on the ends of his pants as if he could force them into order the way he used to drill his men. It was a valiant effort, but from this angle, Talia could see that it was doomed to failure: he had outgrown those trousers about two months back. There was only one pair roomy enough to handle his…heftier…form, and those were left drying on the line outside.

But her Joined was nothing if not bullishly stubborn and utterly unwilling to accept he was no longer in full fighting shape. He yanked one last time on the waist of his trousers, straining to get the ends closer together—then, seeming to decide the easiest way to force the matter was to lay down and let gravity help him suck himself in, he fell back with a heavy _thud_ on the bed.

…and jolted in surprise when the change in position caused his gut to surge forward; three buttons snapped off his tunic and went scattering across the floor. Gaping holes remained in their place, showing flashes of straining skin between the gaps.

That really, really should not have been as hot as it was.

Cullen looked down at his own gut, a stunned expression on his face. Talia watched as he let go of the waist of his pants and instead cupped the roundness of his stomach. He’d put on more weight over the last several months, belly steadily pushing out. She wasn’t sure she’d yet call him _fat_ , though at this point, Talia supposed any polite euphemism really was just splitting hairs. Especially right now, when he was so swollen from his meal—he looked bigger than she knew him to really be. He looked _huge_ , impression of his mass not helped by the gaping clothes.

He swiped his palms over his exposed pot belly, over where it curved from his hard pecs and down to where it nearly came to rest in his lap. Talia bit back a smile and rested her hands on her own small-but-growing bump, swiping her palms over the straining flesh in a mirror gesture. _She_ felt absolutely massive, especially when she tried to do anything she had taken for granted before—sitting down and climbing back up to her feet chief amongst them—even though she wasn’t so many months along. Certainly not so far along in her pregnancy to feel as gravid and heavy as she did.

Maybe it was the result of carrying a half-elf. Maybe Cullen’s offspring were just unnaturally large. Maybe it was all the delicious dirty talk they had been doing all the way up to the day they realized she really _was_ pregnant—whispering about how she was going to swell for him, how gigantic she would be with his babe, how the wide arc of her belly would make her waddle helplessly from here to there, balance thrown by the wide arc.

She rubbed soothingly at the bare swell of belly spanning from the crop of her vest (straining to hold breasts that just seemed to grow bigger each day) to the tightening pinch of her own leathers and felt a wry kinship for her Joined, who was staring down at his own body as if he didn’t recognize it.

“Maker’s breath, I’ve gotten fat,” he muttered.

And this, Talia decided, was her cue to announce her presence. “You’ve gotten even more gorgeous than before,” she said, straightening. Cullen twisted around to look at her with a start, one hand spreading over the roundest part of him as if to hide from her view. She headed toward the bed, deliberately putting a sway in her step, letting herself move more awkwardly than was truthful just to draw his eye to the proud jut of her belly. She wasn’t so honorable as to not use the tools she had at her disposal. “Some of us just wear it well, I think.”

“You wear it beautifully,” Cullen murmured as she stopped before him. He reached up (as she’d hoped he would), ignoring his own belly for hers. His big palms cupped her flesh, mapping it delicately before he leaned in to press a tender kiss to the outermost swell of her. “So _very_ beautifully.”

“As do you.”

“This,” he rested his forehead against her pregnant belly, “is our child. _This_ …” She couldn’t see, but somehow she knew he was grabbing himself too-hard, too-cruel, those voices of old knight-commanders no doubt dressing him down for letting himself go, “…is the body of an ex-soldier gone to seed. I knew it was getting bad, but Maker, I should have been paying more attention.”

Talia hissed in a breath. “Hush,” she said. She bent awkwardly—stomach making her have to spread her thighs in a way she wasn’t used to—and grasped his shoulders, steadying herself before climbing into his lap. Their bare stomachs dragged together in a toe-curling grind of flesh on flesh. She couldn’t explain what it was, but there was something undeniably sexual about the feel of them pressed together this way. Months left in her pregnancy and she could barely fit in his lap anymore! “ _I_ have been paying attention, and I love everything I see.”

He shot her a dubious look. “You love having a fat husband?”

“I love having _you_ as my husband,” she shot back. “Whatever your size. Besides.” She bit her lip, deliberately rolling her hips. Their bodies raked together in a smooth glide. “I am finding there is a great deal of pleasure to be found in being so round. I feel heavy, _full_ , swollen and growing all the time. Look at how big I already am,” Talia murmured, taking his hands and pressing the palms over her bare skin. She could feel him hardening against her, as she’d hoped he would—could feel the way he responded despite himself to her words. They had carved this groove into themselves, where her pregnant belly brought nothing but pleasure. With time and some concerted effort, maybe she could do the same for him.

Maybe she was already there.

“And I love seeing _you_ heavy and happy,” she murmured, deliberately grinding against his cock. She was already slippery, hot. Hungry for him. “You were never like this before, back in Skyhold. You would never let yourself relax.”

“I was never fat and useless,” he muttered, but she leaned in to kiss him hard, hands pressing between them (awkward because of the round heft of their bodies) and pushing the folds of his fly aside—pushing her sopping smalls out of the way. When she shifted, the head of his cock pressed against her core, and she hissed out a low breath as she slowly, slowly, slowly lowered herself onto him.

“Oooh,” Talia breathed, sinking onto her lover’s cock, toes curling as their bellies brushed together—just enough to change her angle, to make her have to arch to seat herself fully. He was hot and _thick_ inside her; his breath was coming fast. “Yes. Round and beautiful.”

Cullen grasped her hips, gently guiding her. The bed protested as they thrust together, his hard cock driving up into the welcome clench of her body. Seeing the way they swayed and bounced was almost enough to make her giggle—but then he shifted again and the heavy weight of his lower belly ended up pressing against her as she arched, and something about their combined weight and the way they had to maneuver changed the angle of his entry. His cock brushed up against something inside her that had her jerking and yelping in sudden sparks of pleasure— _dissolving_ as he gripped her hips and drove into her again, again.

He growled and carefully flipped them, laying her across the bed as he spread her thighs and pushed back inside. Their stomachs mashed together, one of his hands cradling the curve of her as he thrust home—driving back against that electrified spot so hard she was _flying_. Talia came with a shout, legs spread wide, body soaring, pinned by her own weight and utterly at his mercy as Cullen slowed his thrusts through her climax…and then started again.

He just managed to slide a hand between them, teasing her clit as he picked up pace again, and Talia had a shivery, pleasure-drunken thought that soon, the both of them would be far too fat for even that much—but then, as his cock pressed against _that spot_ again, angled by the impairments placed on them by their own bodies…she figured maybe she didn’t need those clever, sword-calloused fingers to find her pleasure.


	9. Year Six

Talia groaned and flopped back against the pillows, giving up. Her naked flesh seemed to ripple with the movement, breasts (swollen uncomfortably large and hyper-sensitive at the tips, milk wanting to come now that she was officially weeks past her due date) swaying. She’d been trying to struggle up and out of bed, but the sheer girth of her pregnant body kept her pinned unless she wriggled around to find purchase first, and she was too tired to bother now.

What good was it getting up when all she could do was waddle from one resting place to the next, giant swell of her gravid belly announcing her entrance into any tent before the rest of her annoyingly ever-plumping form made it through?

“Feh,” she muttered, running her hands down her sides almost angrily. She’d always been thin as a reed, lithe, graceful. Now she felt like a prize druffalo fattened for market, its swollen udder hanging so low it grazed the ground as it walked. 

The fat stomach…that she did not mind. That was her child in there, rounding her out so thoroughly that, as she lay here on her back, all she could see was the high peak of her own belly. She’d been big months back and had only grown—and grown—and grown since, each few days bringing another inch to her waistline until her thighs were pushed apart whenever she sat and a helping hand was required if she wanted to hoist herself out of a seat.

That was annoyingly difficult but acceptable—especially since she would lose the heft of it any day now. No, what truly displeased her was the _softening_ that had happened over the past three months, creeping onto her body as she and her Joined gave themselves over to cravings of the flesh.

Perhaps…perhaps too much.

Talia pinched a fold of skin at her side, knowing it would remain even when the baby’s girth was gone, and sighed out a breath. And perhaps there was no perhaps about it. She felt thick and soft and useless laying here; she felt too impossibly fat to move. Worse, she felt hungry, craving something sweet that would only compound the problem. It was an endless, frustrating cycle, and she was ready for it to be over.

There was a sound by the tent flap and Talia craned her neck to see—but of course, she couldn’t see anything past the dome of her body. She huffed out a breath and struggled to hoist herself up onto one elbow, hand of her other arm cupping the bare, straining flesh of her middle. It was a struggle just to lift herself a few inches, her body no longer her own.

There was the clink of something being laid aside—and then Cullen was there, reaching out to run a big, soothing hand over her skin before lightly grasping her fingers. “Here we are,” he said, hoisting her carefully into sitting position. It was mortifying that she was so graceless, but also…also a little hot, knowing it was the weight of his child pinning her in place. Talia’s thighs spread as she sat up, making room for the wide swell of her belly. Her full breasts settled against the rounded top and she drew in an unsteady breath, then smiled up at her Joined.

“Thank you,” she said. “Another week of this and I won’t be able to get up, even with your help.”

Cullen brushed back her hair and leaned in for a quick, hot, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue flicked into her mouth before retreating, and he slid his hand down, callouses rasping over her quivering skin. “It will be over soon,” he murmured before leaning in to press a kiss to the crest of her belly. “Though I admit, a big part of me will miss this.”

“I’ll be missing an even bigger part of me when it’s through,” she quipped back, grinning up at his sudden, flashing smile. She loved putting that smile on his face. Then she paused and sniffed the air. “What’s that?”

He turned to the spindly table where he’d placed a large tray. “Dinner. I thought it’d be easier if we took it in here tonight.” And save her the mortifying struggle of the waddle to and from the fire.

“That looks like a feast bigger than the two of us merit,” she mused, eyeing the dishes. A delicious spark began to flutter between her (fleshier than usual) thighs. She rubbed a hand over her belly and didn’t bother to keep the heat from her eyes. “Are you so very hungry?”

Cullen made a wry noise and rested a hand on his own impressively round gut. “I think we know the answer to that already,” he said. That was all the invitation she needed to oogle. Spirits, but he was fat. From that night when his swollen belly had popped the buttons off his tunic, they’d been playing a sexual game with their growing bodies and lots—and lots—of food. It gave their foreplay an unusual charge, the way they enjoyed their meals now, and the sex was like nothing she had ever experienced before, not even in the long years they had been together. But the effects it was having were…increasingly obvious.

He moved the heavily laden tray closer, so she could reach her meal, then took a seat. His latest leathers creaked under the strain as he sat, rounded gut pushing against the already-straining buttons. It rested fully in his lap—perhaps not as large as hers, but just as round, even empty.

And Maker, the way it looked when it was full.

“I’ve spoken with the Keeper,” Cullen said, spooning out ridiculously generous portions for them both. Talia tried to tell herself she should go easy, unwilling to add more soft flab to her usually lithe body…but the smell was divine. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to indulge a little. “She confirmed we will be staying here until you’ve recovered from childbirth. We didn’t want to risk moving into colder lands, and the Inquisition has kept this stretch of land peaceful for some time. It’s a good place.”

“It’s the perfect place.” She took a bite, eyes slipping closed in pleasure—but at Cullen’s low noise, she quickly opened them again. He was already tucked in, bites quick but neat. Watching him eat was such an incredible sight. Whether it was still the effects of the potion he took or a true gluttony that had been awakened inside him, he dove into his meals with a single-minded sensuality that never failed to send a coil of heat through her.

Talia bit her bottom lip and spread her thighs a little wider, letting the gravid heft of her pregnant belly settle against the edge of the mattress. If she arched up the right way, back curving, the heavy swell of it put just the right amount of pressure on her privates. She did that now, taking a bite for his every three; when he looked up to meet her eyes, the air felt electric.

“Don’t mind me,” she murmured, subtly squirming. “I just love watching you fill that delicious little potbelly of yours.”

He took a swallow of rich mead, then wryly tapped a hand against his gut. Even now, knowing how much she loved it, he seemed embarrassed by its size. She supposed he’d always have those voices in his head, demanding he remain in peak fighting shape. “I don’t know that you can call this _little_ , love.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Talia purred. “It could always be bigger.” She liked to imagine that sometimes, though even in her imagination, she couldn’t quite decide how big her Joined should become. He carried his weight so well that it was hard to put a cap on it. Most of it settled in his stomach, spilling out into an adorable swell that wobbled over the lip of his trousers when he was hungry and ballooned in a hard roundness when he was packed full. His chest had softened somewhat, though he was still strong through his shoulders and arms—a warrior. The rolls at his side always seemed to squeeze beneath the hem of his shirt no matter how often he tugged it in place, and he had finally earned a bit of softness around his chin.

Spirits, she wanted to pin him down on the bed and stuff him until that little softness bloomed into a full second chin she could nip and tease. Never had she imagined just how much she’d love seeing her Commander go big and fat.

“Finish your plate,” Talia murmured, eyes on him. She wondered if she could make him burst another button; there was nothing hotter than seeing him outgrow his snug clothes. “And fix yourself another. I’d like to see just how big you can get.”

“Too big. I should be more careful.” Cullen shifted, color creeping up to his ears, down his neck—but he finished his plate and fixed himself another, piled obscenely high. No matter how many times he protested, he never stopped eating. “I’ve been packing on even more than usual these last few months.”

She arched again, wet. Watching the way he ate—focused, devoted, sensual—did that to her now. “I’ve noticed. Of course, you aren’t the only one.” Talia rubbed her palm over the high dome of her belly in demonstration. “If I go another week growing like this, I won’t even be able to walk.”

Cullen’s eyes raked over her hungrily; her nipples tightened, aching in response.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she murmured. “If I got so hugely fat with your child, I couldn’t even walk?” Talia shifted again, spreading her thighs wider. The tightness of her stomach was a wonder. As uncomfortable as it was, it was sensual too—especially now, as she rubbed her hand over the taut skin, teasing Cullen. “You’d love to see me full to bursting, pinned down by the weight of the babe you put inside me. Helpless to do anything but lay there and let my gorgeous fat husband tend to me. Worship me?” This she added teasingly, one brow arched. He was packing away the second plate at an astonishing rate, as if the only response to her words was a similar kind of hedonism.

“I would,” Cullen said, utensil scraping the plate. He let it drop and leaned back, groaning as his own round gut pressed all too tight against his straining clothes. “I would absolutely worship you.”

Talia bit the inside of her mouth. No popped buttons, but his pants looked like they were groaning around his thickening thighs. They were rolled beneath his belly, a generous crescent of flesh spilling out beneath his tunic. Gorgeous. “As I’d worship you. Tell me, Cullen,” she murmured. “Exactly how full are you?”

“This isn’t the first I’ve broken my fast,” Cullen admitted, flush deepening. He spanned both hands around the widest heft of his gut, massaging the bulging skin as if he couldn’t believe the size. “I’d—Maker—eaten earlier, with Hollan, while you were sleeping. I really shouldn’t have more.”

She gave another squirm. “Is that why your leathers already look ready to come bursting off?” Talia murmured. “Unfasten your pants and fix yourself a third plate. I want to see the way you’re getting so fat you’re outgrowing your clothes.”

He was bright red, but he did as she asked—arching up with a grunt to get to the lacings of his pants beneath the round hang of his belly. Seeing the way he had to lift and hoist his swollen belly made her so incredibly wet—she set aside her own plate, finished with her meal, and instead settled back to enjoy the sight of him. Talia rubbed the roundness of her body with the palms of her hands, then reached up to cup and squeeze her gravid breasts as Cullen let out a long, relieved breath, pants loosened. She could swear she saw his belly push forward, freed…and heard the warning creak of buttons. The hem of his tunic had rolled up to reveal more of him, and when he leaned forward to obediently fill his plate again, Talia squirmed at the sight of his already-stuffed stomach pushing apart his thighs.

“You are telling me you ate a full meal already.” He met her eyes as he took the first bite, and his grunt of mingled satisfaction and discomfort made her sex throb. “You stuffed yourself with Hollan on fine food and no doubt plenty of mead…and then you came here to your loving wife to continue stuffing that gut of yours bigger and bigger like the gorgeous glutton you are.”

Cullen made a noise at that—once more half satisfaction and half embarrassment. He squirmed against it even as he steadily ate and ate and ate; he was so full now that she swore she could see him spreading outwards with each bite. His tunic was truly straining now, and Cullen seemed to catch onto her desire to see him burst free. Cheeks flaming in delicious mortification, he ran the fingers of his free hand around the protesting buttons, along the flashes of skin exposed by the widening gaps.

And still, he kept eating.

“Look at you,” Talia murmured. She squirmed to try to slide her fingers into her body; it took some doing, her own gravid stomach in the way, but somehow she managed to arch her back and heft her swollen flesh, dipping her fingers inside again and again in time with the scrape of his fork. “Spirits, just look at you.”

Cullen paused, panting, when he finished the last plate. He was swollen up so incredibly large, belly a massive thing propped between his meaty thighs. He seemed almost in pain, but a good sort of pain, his eyes flashing with dark hunger that had her twisting her fingers deeper, teasing over her clit. “I can’t,” he began, then huffed a breath. “Maker, I’m so full.”

She hitched her hips and bit back a moan. “There’s so little left, though,” Talia teased. “Surely you’re not going to leave anything behind?”

“Wicked woman,” he said. “If I left it up to you, you’d feed me until I couldn’t move.” Then, getting fully into their erotic game: “What would my men say about me if they saw me now? Would they even recognize me like this? Or would they poke and prod at their fat commander, fingers digging into his fleshy sides, and make bets on whether there’s a set of armor in all of Thedas that could fit around his shocking girth?”

He was pulling the platter over even as he spoke, beginning to polish off the rest without aid of a plate. Talia moaned and closed her eyes at the image—those fine Inquisition men staring at the pair they made as they waddled proudly into the main square. The whispers and conjectures. The soft jibs. Dorian asking Cullen when the baby was due as he patted her Joined’s girth…and Bull throwing his head back with a roaring laugh.

“Look at the Commander gone to fat. Looks like married life is treating your man well, Boss.”

Would that stomach bounce as he sat astride a horse? Would all of him…jiggle? Watching him polish off the very last bit of the feast—his second in just a handful of hours—she couldn’t help but think that if things continued in this vein, there’d be no avoiding it.

“Maker,” he panted, throwing down the fork in victory. His tunic audibly creaked around his stomach now, huge gaps flashing between protesting buttons. All it would take was a heavy breath and he’d be spilling free. She whined deep in her throat and worked her fingers in faster at the image of Cullen outgrowing yet another pair of clothes…but she couldn’t quite get the angle she needed to take herself over the edge. Her bulk was too annoying, too impossible to maneuver around. She was squirming and sopping wet and had no hope of easing herself.

But then there was a loud creak of wood and leather as Cullen leaned forward. “Here, love,” he murmured, huffing in a breath as he moved into a crouch. He clutched the massively stuffed, gravid spill of his own gut, round belly bumping the table as he sank down onto his knees and pushed her thighs wide with his shoulders. Talia spilled back with a cry, shuddering at the first long swipe of his tongue—and then she nearly screamed, pleasure spiking as he drove his tongue into her clenching body, stubbled cheeks rubbing against her ever-softening thighs…

…buttons clattering as they _finally_ popped off the straining tunic at the shift of his weight, scattering across the floor in a visible sign of her husband’s gluttony as his belly surged forward and his hands gripped her hips and his tongue found her clit with a tight, focused pulse.

Talia came with his name on her lips.


	10. Year Eight

She was a few months into her second pregnancy and already beginning to show.

“Another fine, big child,” the Keeper told her, patting Talia’s gently rounding stomach with a fond smile. It seemed her belly was the property of everyone in the clan when she was pregnant…and she and her Joined so enjoyed the experience of getting her pregnant that she supposed she may as well get used to it.

She sighed and then smiled back, wryly noting that she was already putting back on the baby weight she hadn’t fully lost from her first child. If she wasn’t careful, the dirty talk about how she’d be pinned to her bed, too fat and round to move, really would come true this time.

“Thank you, Keeper,” she said, refusing to think about that now. She’d worry about it later. “Have you see Cullen?”

“Your Joined is with little Kayla by the fire.” Then, touching Talia’s face. “It is so good to see the three of you so happy.”

“Thank you,” Talia murmured again, heart-felt. She tipped her face into the caress, then turned and headed toward the fire, a sway in her step. There was no missing her Joined once she neared it. He was sitting in dead center, surrounded by the hunters and storytellers and children. Seated, his soft, round stomach filled his lap. His second chin darkened in a shadow as he talked. His bare arms were strong, but meaty; his thighs were plump flesh and muscle. Soft rolls pressed along his sides, molded by always-too-tight clothing.

Resting against his impressively soft gut, their young daughter yawned and nestled closer. One of her tiny hands was splayed over her father’s fat belly, and her face was pressed against his side; she looked utterly blissed out, and Cullen’s smile when he looked down at her…then up to meet Talia’s eyes over the fire…nearly made her heart stop.

This was her beloved. This was her life now. Fat and happy—utterly content with whatever came next.

They had finally found peace.


End file.
